Just the Five of Us

My name is Kristen Spencer. I am your average shy, detached, emo-type girl, except for one tiny explosive secret. I see things. I see people with kitty ears on their head and dogs with wings on their backs and plants that glow and worst of all giant black blob like creatures with glowing red eyes. No one knows except my doctor and my mother and father. If anyone did, I would crawl into a hole to die.

I’m sensitive, I get nervous easily, and I hate anything that has to do with social interaction. But that is just the way I am. I’m the most self-conscious girl that has ever lived on this planet. My mother decided the way to fix that was to send me to summer camp.

Well…it will kill me!!!!

Camp involves sharing showers and changing rooms, and dining halls and cabins and boats. I am going to be surrounded by girls prettier than me, and richer and happier, and snobbier. Girls who are just waiting, wringing their hands together for a girl who blushes the color of blood and has a tendency to trip on her own feet, a.k.a me.

I watched my mom drive away. My heart sank lower than the titanic as she blew me kiss through the rear view mirror. She had kept going on and on about summer camp being fun and exciting, but when you’re me, nothing is ever exciting.

‘I’m doing this for your own good, and because I care,’ she had said. If she really cared she wouldn’t dump me here. If she really cared she wouldn’t forsake her daughter to the horrors of a camp called Wallabe, it sounded more like wanna-be than anything. I turned to face my doom.

It looked like your average camp. Log cabins, fire pit, lots of mean looking equipment designed to torture children through so called “activities”. I took a deep shaky breath and I weaved my way between eager campers to the building with the big Reception Room sign on it.

The only reason I noticed this is because I have a bad reputation with guys my age. I get all flustered and awkward and it’s really embarrassing. In other words I have no flirtatious talent at all. What I noticed was how the campers all seemed to be guys.

I stopped at the door and contemplated running away and seeking shelter with a family of bears till the summer ended. I might have done that, except, I’m scared of bears. I opened the door and walked in a man sat at a large desk covered in random papers and empty brown coffee cups. He was going bald in the middle of his head and he had a bad case of warts on his left hand.
He smiled up at me, “how can I help you young lady?” he asked in an ‘I wish I was anywhere but here’ voice.

I fiddled with a lock of my pale blond hair and answered nervously, “I’m Kristin Spencer, and I am here for the five week course of camp.”

“Ah!” he said trying to look cheerful, “the girl! Well,” he began shuffling through the mess on his desk looking for some papers.

What the heck had he meant by ‘the girl’?

“Here we are,” he examined a yellow piece of paper with a bunch of white ones attached before nodding, “welcome to Camp Wallabe , Kristin it is wonderful to have you, um… the only cabin with any extra beds was cabin four and um, we hope you will….” He looked embarrassed before thrusting the paper at me, “there is your schedule, the activities and your team color, uh, have fun at camp!”

I walked out feeling flustered. He had sounded embarrassed by something. It wasn’t fair, I decided, he could have shown me were the cabins were at least. I sighed and ended up completely lost.

Camp counselors were everywhere; they had bright orange t-shirts on saying:

Hi I am here to help!
Camp Counselor

But I couldn’t pick up the nerve to ask any of them were cabin four was. I stood by the fire pit biting my lip and wishing I was invisible as I looked nervously around for a cabin four.

“Hey,”